


Compliments to the chef

by Caeva



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M, Porn, Technically food porn, handjob, if you catch my drift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:45:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeva/pseuds/Caeva
Summary: After several months of roaming around in Europe as fugitives, Will finally begins to see things Hannibal's way - and succumbs to his desires. (Just a fun little one-shot. Because cannibalism... is... fun? xD)





	Compliments to the chef

**Author's Note:**

> A short story, an outtake of what I think (or rather, what I HOPE) happened after the season 3 finale.
> 
> (P.O.V. initially Will's, but it switches to Hannibal's somewhere in the middle. Just be prepared for that. I didn't do it on purpose. Hannibal just sort of "took over." Seriously, it was creepy. o_o)

 

  
  
”You’re finally enjoying yourself,” Hannibal murmured directly into Will’s ear, his breath carrying the scent of the red wine they’d enjoyed earlier. “Your reluctance to partake in my… _activities_ was, frankly, beginning to irk me.”  
  
Will swallowed tightly and leaned his head back on Hannibal’s shoulder, shivering as Hannibal’s grip twisted around his stiff erection, milking it on clear, salty fluids. Like his cock was shedding tears over having lost a mental battle. Relief and passion and horror and fury, all jumbled together.  
  
“Screw you,” he spat, and cursed inwardly when he heard his own voice come out soft and husky. He couldn’t even take himself seriously. But that didn’t stop him from trying to maintain some of his dignity. He’d sooner die than admit defeat just like that. One moment of weakness, and he was already getting devoured. Hannibal was a goddamned predator. " _You_ made me cross this line. You turned me into this." He paused briefly to catch his breath, taking the opportunity to put more heat into his voice. "I hate you for that."  
  
Hannibal low chuckle was followed by warm lips against Will’s neck that sent fiery shivers down Will’s back.  
  
“Yes, perhaps you do,” Hannibal hissed and his grip on Will’s dick tightened mercilessly, forcing a pained gasp from him. “But then again, the line between love and hate is very, very fine. And when all is said and done, they are mere extensions of _instinct_.”  
  
Will craned his neck to glance back at the older man.  
  
“For a psychiatrist, you’re awfully cynical.”  
  
“Cynical? For not denying my nature?” Hannibal growled and pressed his thumb against Will’s wet glans. Will couldn’t help but to arch into the vicious touch, hating himself for how much he enjoyed it. “Our instincts are what drive us. They’re what makes us want, desire, hunt and kill. You were born, not cursed, but  _gifted_  with the mind of a killer, Will. Just like me. Would you rather remain in denial? Look at you. I’ve only just freed you, and you’re already so eager to get back into your cage.”  
  
Will didn’t reply. Instead, he enclosed Hannibal's hand with his own and gave a slow pump, urging Hannibal on. The lack of stimulation was beginning to frustrate him. Hannibal's chest rumbled with contained laughter, as if Will’s reluctant submission entertained him. Hell, it probably did. The man always did have a deranged sense of humour.  
  
“Would you like me to tell you about the meal we just enjoyed?” Hannibal asked, tone light. His hand slowly started moving again and without really knowing why he agreed to it, Will nodded breathlessly. After all – he was responsible for this.  
  
He had instigated this. _Asked_ for it. And now he was cursing at Hannibal like he was above it all? Like he hadn’t been tormented, for _years_ , by the intense desire to give in to this.  
  
Such fucking bullshit.  
  
They were positioned against the kitchen counter, with Will’s back pressed firmly against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal was holding him in place, strong arms on each side of Will. In front of them remained some of the leftover pieces that Hannibal hadn’t used for their dinner.  
  
More specifically, a foot.  
  
Discarded in the sink, like the unpleasant core of a bell pepper that no one wanted to eat. Deemed garbage; they were going to throw it out eventually. Each toe nail was painted pink. It hadn’t even started rotting yet. Fresh kill. Hannibal had an entire freezer full of body parts to choose from, but had insisted on going hunting anyway.  
  
Most likely because it was the first time Will had expressed a desire for dinner á la Hannibal on his very own accord. It had already been months since they escaped America together. They'd been hiding out in a small French village for the first month before moving on to Nice, and then to Paris.  
  
No one back home seemed to believe that they’d made it out alive - which meant no one was looking for them. Well, Crawford might be looking, but without the necessary backup, the odds of him finding them were abysmal. And they never stayed in the same place for long. They’d be packing up and heading for Denmark in just a couple of days. Will was still trying to get used to their nomadic way of living.  
  
Hannibal didn’t mind their constant moving around. What he did mind was Will’s fluctuating state of mind - his indecisiveness regarding Hannibal’s inclinations.  
  
Hannibal had dared to hope that the night they killed the red dragon together would bring forth that hidden, beautiful part of Will - the gem he'd seen lurking deep within the younger man from the very beginning. Like a red ruby hidden beneath dark soil.  
  
Alas, the ex-profiler was a stubborn man, very much controlled by the indoctrination that taking other people’s lives was wrong. Unethical. _Evil_.  
  
It was absurd, really. Nature wasn’t divided into ‘good’ and ‘evil’. It was _kill or be killed._  Predator and Prey. But Will didn’t seem to get that yet. The guilt and the shame were like shackles around his neck, weighing him down every time Hannibal took a life and he did nothing to prevent it.  
  
But still, despite all that, there was something in Will’s gaze, something deep and dark and dangerous that kept Hannibal’s hope alive. Something that told Hannibal that he hadn’t been wrong about Will.  
  
Will never asked what their food contained whenever Hannibal prepared dinner for them. He'd _known_ , of course, but never asked to confirm. Part of Hannibal resented Will for that. Resented him for denying his true, beautiful self. Resented him for trying to distance himself from Hannibal.  
  
So when Will finally, just a few days prior to their current activity, asked Hannibal to prepare them a dish with a timid, reluctantly excited look that spoke volumes, Hannibal could've burst from pride. Finally, Will was accepting himself. Will was coming to terms – or possibly giving in – to the parts of him that needed this. The parts of him that _wanted_ it.  
  
The meat had been prepared as filet mignon, with wedges of sweet potatoes on the side, along with a delicate salad made from local spinach and red beets. A relatively simple dish compared to what Hannibal could’ve accomplished in his own kitchen, but delicious none the less.  
  
They ate her in tense silence. Every bite seemed equal parts painful and delicious to Will, who took the longest to finish off his plate, refusing to meet Hannibal's gaze until he'd done so.  
  
And that's when it happened. When they looked upon one another, having just enjoyed that special dinner, the one that Will had specifically _requested_ , something clicked. A spark that turned into a fire that turned into a roaring inferno.  
  
They somehow managed to remain calm enough to put their plates away. The classical music that played in the background turned into white noise when Will placed himself by the counter, a little too close to Hannibal to be innocent, and given him a _look_.  
  
That look. That dark, hungry, _challenging_ look, half-concealed by brown locks of unruly hair. Will never did understand the fine art of using a comb. Not that Hannibal minded. He didn't mind much when it came to Will.  
  
He never expected the meeting of their tongues to be so triggering for the younger man - or for himself for that matter. It was as if they'd been starving for one another. The initially tentative grasp Will had on his dress shirt turned into a forceful grip, pulling him closer while simultaneously pressing himself against Hannibal in a display of pure need.  
  
Hannibal never did appreciate animalistic behaviour. Preferred to keep a cool head.  
  
Except for when it came to this. The raw, unspoken desire in Will's eyes were a delicacy in its own right. The lust that gripped him was almost overwhelming, the need to claim the other man, insert himself into his body, mark him and leave a part of himself there. He wanted to utterly devour Will.  
  
And yet, somehow, Hannibal had managed to keep himself together. Rushing things didn't work on Will. Pushing too far too soon made the younger man retreat. Bending him over the counter and fucking him raw would likely result in Will wallowing in self-hatred for days to come, distancing himself even further from Hannibal.  
  
What _did_ work on him was slow, deliberate displays of dominance. Because Will enjoyed submission, although his stubborn pride made him insist that he didn’t. Hannibal had waited so goddamned long for this moment and would be damned if he ruined it now.  
  
Thus, he settled for touching Will. Though he ached to be inside him, stimulating Will was still immensely satisfying. The younger man's erection twitched and jerked in his hand, letting Hannibal know just how much Will was enjoying his ministrations, even if he refused to say it out loud.  
  
_No matter. Actions speak louder than words._  
  
Will's back arched beautifully when Hannibal’s hand reached the stiff root, where it paused for a second to tighten its’ grip. The tight bend of his back forced Will’s ass up against Hannibal's crotch, letting the man feel Hannibal’s arousal through his expensive pants. The gasp that escaped Will was like a fine _etude_ , a symphony of want.  
  
With his mouth half-agape, Will regarded the severed limb resting in the sink through heavy eyelids and licked his lips as Hannibal’s free hand slowly went up under his dishevelled cardigan. Strong fingers spread across his chest, finding erect nipples to tease. Will closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to keep from moaning.  
  
“The first thing you need to know about her,” Hannibal said, voice somewhat husky now, “is that she was a spoiled. Little. _Cunt_.”  
  
Will sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as the aggressive words sent a violent tremor through him. Hannibal noticed and immediately tightened his grip on Will’s dick to prevent the approaching orgasm. Smirking against Will's nape when the younger man sobbed in frustrated protest, Hannibal continued.  
  
"You might recall the opera we went to see a couple of weeks ago?"  
  
"Yes," Will whispered breathlessly.  
  
"Do you remember what happened after the second act?"  
  
Will was silent for a few seconds, apparently working hard to sort through his memories. Hannibal’s ruthless grip on his dick must’ve been distracting.  
  
"Someone a few rows ahead of us used their cell phone," he eventually murmured, letting out a hitched breath, followed by an unsteady chuckle. "You were furious."  
  
“I worked hard to get us those tickets." Hannibal smiled and pressed his lips briefly against Will’s neck. Will gave a scoff, earning himself a painful squeeze from Hannibal's hand, causing him to wince. Once he regained his senses, Will gave a nod towards the foot.  
  
"So... This is her?"  
  
"Yes. I've had my eyes on her ever since. Her father owns a chain of jewellery stores," Hannibal explained. "She seemed to think his small fortune granted her certain privileges, such as attending the opera, despite having no understanding or appreciation for the finer arts. She was only there to be seen as someone of importance. Made sure of it by _taking pictures_ of herself." Hannibal couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. Will whimpered slightly and then went completely silent for a few seconds, before he finally released a shivering breath. When he spoke, his voice trembled.  
  
"How did you do it?"  
  
Hannibal smiled softly against Will's nape before he replied.  
  
"It was ridiculously easy. I snatched her up outside a nightclub she'd been frequenting. Knocked her out in an alley. Never even saw my hammer coming. She seemed to think I was trying to bed her... Pulled down her panties for me and everything."  
  
"And..." Will's throat clicked as he swallowed, "what does that make her?"  
  
The leading question came as a surprise. Hannibal raised his eyes to the kitchen window in front of them and caught Will's gaze in the reflection. Will wasn't so overcome by lust that he didn't know what he was doing or saying. Instead, he met Hannibal's gaze head-on. There was a strange glow in those eyes. An oddly excited, hungry grin on those lips. Hannibal grinned back and leaned in close to whisper in Will's ear.  
  
" _A pig_."   
  
Will scrunched his eyes shut and threw his head back. The violent shudder that launched Will's forceful orgasm shook Hannibal's frame. Semen sprayed over the kitchen counter, some of it splashing against the discarded foot. It was so gloriously macabre it made Hannibal lick his lips. He closed his eyes and revelled in the passionate moan that escaped the younger man. Inhaled the scent of Will's sweat and lust. The complete surrender in the man's body as he tensed and spasmed against him, hands clutching desperately at Hannibal's forearms.  
  
And then, it was over.  
  
The warm, comfortable calm that followed this intense act of intimacy was one that Hannibal greatly enjoyed. Never before had he been able to seek sexual gratification by being so completely honest, so open with his partner. Will was unique in many ways - one of them being that he'd placed himself in Hannibal's arms, knowing exactly who he was, desiring him _for_ it - not despite it. Hannibal had known since the beginning that Will would become someone special to him, but he hadn't seen this coming.  
  
A wave of unexplored emotions overcame Hannibal and he pressed his forehead against Will's damp nape, finding the younger man's bodyheat comforting.  
  
He stayed like that, hugging Will's panting frame close, until he felt a pair of lips graze his temple. He raised his head to meet Will's gaze. They regarded one another for a few silent seconds, as if trying read each other's minds, before Will opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"My compliments to the chef."  
  
  
THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it. :D


End file.
